Your Character's Name: Claire I knew I couldn't venture out across the Wasteland on my own. I was woefully unprepared to face the various enemies who might be waiting, or worse, looking for me. I spent several days in my dwelling, resigning myself to my current, rather undesirable life. I spent countless hours sribbling meaningless thoughts into my journal. Meaningless, because I'd run out of blank space long ago, and was now forced to write words on top of words on top of words. Only I could decipher what had been written in those layers - probably for the better. I didn't need my thoughts spelled out for anyone who happened by..
I came to a new page in my journal, about to pen a fourth layer of thoughts, when I spotted a small note in a corner that somehow hadn't been scratched over. "Pub Call Board." I recalled the day I had written this, so many years ago, before my parents disappeared. My father had posted a notice for a librarian’s assistant. I realized I could use this same antiquated communication to gather a party for my quest across the Wasteland. I set about locating a clean surface to write upon - no easy task in this hole. Even the walls were covered in words.
I knew I couldn't venture out across the Wasteland on my own. I was woefully unprepared to face the various enemies who might be waiting, or worse, looking for me. I spent several days in my dwelling, resigning myself to my current, rather undesirable life. I spent countless hours sribbling meaningless thoughts into my journal. Meaningless, because I'd run out of blank space long ago, and was now forced to write words on top of words on top of words. Only I could decipher what had been written in those layers - probably for the better. I didn't need my thoughts spelled out for anyone who happened by..
I came to a new page in my journal, about to pen a fourth layer of thoughts, when I spotted a small note in a corner that somehow hadn't been scratched over. "Pub Call Board." I recalled the day I had written this, so many years ago, before my parents disappeared. My father had posted a notice for a librarian’s assistant. I realized I could use this same antiquated communication to gather a party for my quest across the Wasteland. I set about locating a clean surface to write upon - no easy task in this hole. Even the walls were covered in words.